


Sunset-kisses and Flower Meadows

by Emjayelle



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Humour, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 18:03:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emjayelle/pseuds/Emjayelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After what he is sure is the worst work day of his life, Arthur is only made to feel better by the really gorgeous guy sitting in front of him on the train. But then he doesn't ask for his number because he's an idiot. And then he has the bad idea of getting drunk with Morgana. And then she, of course, has to put the whole thing in the missed connections section on craigslist. And really, how well is that suppose to go?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunset-kisses and Flower Meadows

**Author's Note:**

> A major thank you to [yllimilly](http://yllimilly.livejournal.com/) for giving me the idea and for the constant support and fangirling. And to brieface on tumblr for the Britpicking (I did make some changes after sending her the fic, so any mistakes are mine and mine alone)

 

Arthur was in a foul mood. What. A. Shitty. Day. Everything at work had gone from wrong to I-don’t-want-to-live-in-this-world-anymore bad. He had spent the whole afternoon trying to fix messes other (incredibly stupid) people had created. Not to mention the lovely half-hour phone call from his father, where Uther spent most of the time yelling and telling Arthur in great detail how incompetent he and his team were (Arthur knew his father was just blowing off steam and didn’t actually mean everything he said, but that didn’t make these thirty minutes anything less than _fucking dreadful_ ). Then Elena had called to inform him that the German businessman who was suppose to come the day after tomorrow to close a deal that had been six months in the making, wouldn’t be coming after all, because he had gone on a ski holiday with his barely nubile new wife and had broken his two legs.  
Well, wasn’t that just bloody peachy.  
  
He had ignored his father’s attempts at calling him after that news made the rounds. And on top of that, his car had refused to start and Arthur had been in no mood to deal with it, so he had decided to take the tube instead. Where he was now sitting, and where it smelled like too many kinds of food mixed together, sweat and an odd metal scent that caught in his throat making his mouth taste like copper. He wanted to be home so badly. To change into comfortable clothes and sit down in front of the telly with a beer and some unhealthy snack he was sure he had somewhere, until he passed out and the awfulness of this ghastly day was obliterated by sleep. But then the train stopped and a voice came on to tell them there was a problem on the tracks and that there would be a fifteen-minute delay.  
  
Arthur choked down a sob of pure frustration and desperation.  
  
He tried to take deep breaths to calm himself, but couldn’t stand the smell so he was stuck taking shallow ones which made him feel light headed and did nothing to alleviate the tight band of stress and anxiety around his chest. Any moment now, he would just break down and scream. The idea of leaving and just walking crossed his mind, but he was too far from his flat and he was pretty sure it was raining outside anyway. And if it wasn’t, Arthur was convinced it would start the moment he set a foot outside. Because it was really that kind of day. Arthur wasn’t one to tempt fate so he stayed put and tried to think of nice things like bunnies and kittens and playing football and fucking meadows full of flowers or some shit, but then he got angry at his brain for coming up with the most inane and cliché images _ever_ and so just tried to stop thinking altogether. Which wasn’t something Arthur was particularly good at, but was made infinitely easier the moment he saw the man step through the opened doors and sit right in front of him.  
  
If Arthur’s brain hadn’t stopped any non-essential activities at that moment, he probably could have come up with some useful adjectives like “beautiful” and “quirky” and “shaggable”, but as it were his brain refused to cooperate and he was left staring like a bloody teenager with a crush.  
  
When the guy looked up from the book he was reading and gave him a shy smile of acknowledgement, Arthur blushed. He fucking _blushed_. Jesus Christ. He averted his gaze and looked at the tip of his shoes until he could feel his normal brain functions returning and his heart rate slowing (when did it start beating so fast anyway?) Then, and only then, did he allow himself to look up again. With some dignity. Because he was a dignified sort of person and really blushing when a, admittedly gorgeous, man just simply smiles briefly at you would just not do. It would not do at all.  
  
The man was back to reading his book and not looking at Arthur, which was just as well since he felt less like a stalker if he could surreptitiously look at him without having to deal with the looks and the smiles and everything else for that matter. Which did not make much sense since he was pretty sure that ogling a person while they were not aware of it was part of the textbook definition of a stalker, but whatever. He was not even going to try and pretend he was able to make any kind of sense right now. Not in this situation after the day he just had.  
  
The first thing Arthur had seen was that the man was tall and really thin, but as he looked at him a bit more, he could also see that he didn’t look fragile, just wiry and slightly lanky. He had pale skin and disheveled dark hair that Arthur really wanted to touch for some reason (the back of his brain was still making all kinds of cliché phrases about silkiness and smoothness and romantic comedy moments that he just plainly refused to pay attention to, because really? Really, brain? Why would you come up with things like that?). But then Arthur saw the high defined cheekbones, the big ears that were absolutely adorable, and the full lips ( _bloody hell_ ) and his brain might have gone a bit on overload so that he was lost for a moment between kisses at sunsets and sweaty skin rubbing on his, and boy did he need to repress that image. It certainly wouldn’t be a dignified thing to get a hard-on on the train, because of a stranger. And he was, after all, a very dignified kind of person, right? Right.    
  
The man was dressed in tight black jeans (why do they always have to wear tight jeans? Seriously.), converses and a blue blazer over a white shirt. He had a leather satchel beside him and was wearing black-rimmed glasses and wouldn’t it be nice to just take those off and kiss him? Wait, _what_? This was not normal. This was not okay. Arthur was tired and he was frustrated and yes, what he might need right now was a good shag. Possibly with the man in front of him. Several times. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that he should stop looking  at him like a piece of meat and just close his eyes and relax and go to his flat and oh fuck the guy had just looked and smiled at him again.  
  
Arthur knew he didn’t look his best right now. He was certain his hair was standing out all over the place from having passed his hands through it too many times to count during the day. His suit was wrinkled and he had loosened his tie the moment he had sat down. He also refused to think he was still blushing because no, just no. But he tried to smile back a little without looking too manic and was pleasantly surprised when the bloke bit his bottom lip and looked back down at his book. And was that a blush spreading on his cheeks? Fuck yeah, it was! Ha! So Arthur wasn’t the only one who had regressed to his 15 year-old self today. Well, now that made him feel infinitely better. Oh, and the way the guy continued to obviously look at him from time to time through his long dark lashes? Yeah, that helped a lot too.  
  
Arthur barely noticed when the train’s doors closed and started to move again. He was tempted to just go and say hi, but he sort of liked the shy looks he got, the way the man kept biting his lower lip and the small smile at the corner of his mouth. Arthur was flattered and fascinated, too worried to break the mood by being pragmatic and sane, and asking the guy’s mobile number like any other normal human being would do in this situation.  
  
He was still trying to decide what to do when he vaguely heard the name of his station being announced over the intercom and, out of sheer reflex and panic, quickly grabbed his bag and jumped out on the platform as the doors closed behind him. And then he swore. Loudly. _Fuck_. Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_. He turned around just in time to see the train slowly pull out and the bloke looking at him with a sad, slightly disappointed smile. Yeah, you and me both, mate. You and me both.  
  
***  
  
When Arthur made it to his flat (and yes, it had started to rain the moment he had left the underground. He wasn’t even surprised) his foul mood was back, made even fouler by the fact that he had failed miserably at asking out the prettiest man he had seen in a while, because he somehow had reverted back to his teenager self. And wasn’t that just perfectly pathetic?  
  
He opened his door and immediately groaned at the sight of his step-sister sprawled out on his couch.  
  
“Morgana, I really am not in the mood tonight for you or your games,” he said between his teeth while throwing away his bag and jacket on the floor and attacking his tie and the buttons of his shirt.  
  
Morgana said nothing, just raised a hand and pointed at the kitchen table where Arthur saw an empty glass and an opened bottle of whiskey. He sighed, taking off his shirt on the way to his bedroom where he changed into something more comfortable. He came back and poured himself a generous portion of the liquor, before letting himself fall beside Morgana. He took a long gulp from his glass and let his head fall back relishing the burning sensation as the whiskey went down his throat and the warmth pooling in his stomach that followed.  
  
“Bless you,” he told her, closing his eyes with a bit of contentment and a whole lot of relief.  
  
“I got the Uther phone call, too,” mumbled Morgana before taking a long sip from her own glass “It was horrible and dreadful and I just wanted to shoot myself. How was your day?”  
  
“Well, let’s just say the phone call was probably the best part of it.”  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
They stayed in silence for a while and Arthur refilled their glasses once they were empty, and then did it again. And again.  
  
“How come you were so late?” Morgana asked eventually. “I thought you left the office at six, as usual.”  
  
Any other person would have thought she was starting to slur from the alcohol, her voice was so low and slow, but Arthur knew she was just a bit tired and down. Because if he wasn’t drunk yet, Morgana wasn’t either. She could drink him under the table. Unless of course that first glass hadn’t been her first.  
  
“My car wouldn’t start,” said Arthur, “so I decided to take the tube, instead.”  
  
Morgana wrinkled her nose at that.  
  
“Arthur Pendragon with the plebeians. I would have loved to see that,” she said with a smirk.  
  
“Oh, shut up. It wasn’t _that_ bad.”  
  
Arthur buried his nose in his glass and tried to push back the blush he could feel filling his cheeks. What was wrong with him today? He hoped Morgana hadn’t noticed. So of course, she did. She sat up straighter, pulling her legs under her and looked at him intently.  
  
“Is that a blush I’m seeing? Are you fucking blushing? Seriously? I didn’t think it was possible for you to do so. What the bloody fuck happened on the train? Did someone wank in front of you or something? Did you like it?”  
  
Arthur spluttered and almost choked on his drink  
  
“What?! No! Fuck no! Ew. Get your mind out of the gutter Morgana.”  
  
He could feel himself blush even harder. This seriously had to stop. Morgana only laughed at this and let herself fall against the cushions.  
  
“Why do you always have to be so..so…uncouth. It’s like we haven’t been raised in the same house with the same rules,” he grumbled  
  
Morgana just rolled her eyes and pointed at his face with a slightly unsteady hand.  
  
“That’s why, you prat. The faces you make are always so priceless and I can never resist. It shouldn’t surprise you so much by now. And please, don’t give me any lecture, I’ve heard you talk with your mates at the pub when there’s a game, you hardly sound like the perfect upper-class, Oxford-educated, always polished, young man our father raised you to be.”  
  
Arthur just shrugged, but sent her a teasing smirk and opened his mouth with a come-back. Morgana was quicker and raised her hand in front of his face, a dangerous gleam in her eyes  
  
“If you tell me it’s different because I’m a girl, I swear to God I will punch you.”  
  
And she did punch him on the shoulder for good measure. Hard. Arthur just shoved her a bit in return, calmed by the familiarity of their banter and teasing. At least she had forgotten about the whole blushing thing.  
  
“Sooooo,” Morgana started. Or not.  
  
She leaned again toward him, closely inspecting his face, on which he tried to keep a nonchalant, disinterested look. And probably failed miserably.  
  
“What is it then?” she asked. “There’s something, I know it. You better tell me now or you know I will be insufferable until you do. So you might as well save yourself the misery.”  
  
Arthur sighed. Again. Wasn’t that the sad truth. So he told her everything: the guy and what he looked like and the bloody images his mind had come up with and the looks and everything and yes, he was definitely drunker than he thought. Once he was done with the (embarrassing) jumped-on-the-platform-and-swore-loudly-because-I forgot-to ask-his-number part, Morgana burst out laughing and got off the couch too fast, swayed a little before steadying herself, and oh, okay, that hadn’t been her first drink after all. There was a part of Arthur’s mind that was flashing red with an incessant buzzing sound of warning, because nothing good ever came out of the two of them being drunk together. He, of course, ignored it completely.  
  
“What are you doing?” He said while sitting straighter, looking at Morgana taking her laptop out of her bag she had left beside the door.  
  
“We’re going to put your missed connection on craigslist!” she said with a wide smile and sparkling eyes. Yep, definitely drunk.  
  
“My what? On craigslist?” He replied, not really following. Bloody hell, he was useless tonight.  
  
“Your missed connection. Someone writes on craigslist about a person whose path they have crossed during the day, and they describe the encounter and hope the other person will see it and contact them. Like you and that man you saw.”  
  
Arthur snorted.  
  
“Fuck no.”  
  
“Oh please, you know you want to. You know you want him to read it and write to you so you can shag him senseless. I’ve never seen you being so stupidly cheesy about someone. Kisses at sunsets and flower meadows, Arthur? You pathetic, sad man.”  
  
“I was tired and had just finished the most horrible work day of my life. Therefore I think it’s perfectly reasonable to have a brain which does not function properly in times like these and if you write anything on craigslist I _will_ fucking kill you,” he replied in one long breath, but was horrified to realise that there wasn’t as much conviction in his voice as he wanted it to be.  
  
And trust Morgana to pick up on it. His sister was put on this Earth to torment him, he was sure of it. There wasn’t any other explanation. Arthur had been a horrible, horrible person in his past life and Morgana was his karma, his punishment. He hoped his past self had appreciated his life, because Arthur was not grateful. Not. At. All.  
  
“Fine,” he grumbled crossing his arms. “Nobody reads these things anyway, right?”  
  
Morgana shrugged, but there was victory in her eyes, and why did Arthur always let her win? Oh, because she was _the devil_ , that’s why.  
  
He got up and went to the kitchen in search of something to eat. He hadn’t had dinner yet and he was sure that had probably something to do with the advanced state of inebriation he was in. He spared a glance toward Morgana, and made the swift decision to ignore the almost maniacal look of glee she had on her face. Oh, was he going to regret this.  
  
***  
  
Three days later and what had been a terrible day had turned into the most harrowingly, insanely, bad week. One awful day followed the other and every time he thought things could not get worse, they, of course, did. He even had to sleep in his office two nights ago to make a conference call with their Japanese offices, and why the bloody hell weren’t they the ones being awake in the middle of the night instead of him? He also had to suffer an increasing amount of phone calls from his father and he was pretty sure that he had given himself some severe head trauma during the last one by repeatedly banging his head on his desk.  
  
He dreaded returning to his flat, because he knew it was empty and cold. He really wished he could call his mates to go out and watch the game at the pub, except he also knew he would be absolute shite company. So he sat at his desk at the end of the day and stared into the distance, too bloody tired to make a move, not wanting to be here any longer, and not wanting to be alone at his flat either. It was kind of sad, really, though he would never admit it out loud.  
  
There was a quick and decisive knock on the door. He sighed.  
  
“Come in, Morgana.”  
  
His sister entered and he was surprised that she had waited for his say so, since usually she just barged in like she owned the place. He would have teased her about it a bit, except she looked as miserable as him so he let it passed. She dropped heavily in one of the chair in front of his desk, kicking off her high heels and stretching her legs in front of her.  
  
“What the fuck is going on this week Arthur?”  
  
“I don’t know, Morgana. I really don’t know.”  
  
The silence stretched between them as they let their bones and muscles settle, letting the long stressful hours seep out a little, though it did nothing to improve Arthur’s mood. It just made him feel more exhausted instead.  
  
“Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be at your flat by now?”  
  
Morgana shrugged.  
  
“I had things to finish, and I wanted to see how you were doing. Did Uther called you? No, don’t tell me. I can see the red spot on your forehead where you leaned on your desk. He’s the only who can make you do that.”  
  
She stretched, closing her eyes and putting her feet up on his desk. Arthur raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. When she opened her eyes again, her gaze was clearer and a bit of mischief was sparkling in them. Oh, what now?  
  
“Actually, I also wanted to ask you something,” she started.  
  
Arthur just looked at her suspiciously. Morgana’s demands were rare, but Arthur never liked them. She rolled her eyes at his look.  
  
“It’s nothing you won’t like,” she said. “I was just wondering if you would like to have lunch with me tomorrow.”  
  
“You never ask me out to lunch on the weekends unless you have a favour to ask” said Arthur matter-of-factly. “So what is it that you want? I had actually planned to spend the whole weekend hiding in my bed trying to forget about the week and pretending I didn’t have to come back on Monday to fix the million mistakes that will undoubtedly happen the moment I turn my back. So out with it so I can get it out of the way.”  
  
“Oh please, I do _not_ ask you out to lunch just to beg for things. That is a blatant lie, dear brother and I resent the implication,” she said mock angry, but Arthur just looked at her pointedly. A look that she very obviously decided to ignore. “I just…we both just finished working one of the worst week of our lives and I want to go out to lunch with you so we can relax and talk about other things than work work work, and pretend that we have normal lives and normal relationships and that we aren’t both lonely losers staying late in the office because we don’t want to face the emptiness of our flats.”  
  
Arthur let out a long sigh and rubbed the heel of his hands against his eyes. He was so bloody tired, and he hated to admit it, even to himself, but Morgana was right.  
  
“Fine, okay, let’s meet tomorrow for lunch. Where do you want to go?”  
  
“The little café on the corner of your street? I can’t remember the name, but I like it there.”  
  
“Yes, that’s fine. Noon?”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
She stood up, grabbed her heels and walked out barefoot.  
  
“Good night, Arthur. See you tomorrow,” she waved her hand over her head without looking back.  
  
Arthur stared blankly at his opened door for a few more minutes, before standing up, closing the lights and leaving as well.  
  
***  
  
Arthur was glad that Morgana had chosen a café that was so close to his flat since he had woken up late, having fallen asleep almost as soon as he had arrived home last night. He walked down the street at a brisk pace to the small restaurant and was happy to see he was five minutes early. He sat at a table outside and ordered a regular coffee. The sun was shining bright and the air was mild and comfortable. Arthur could almost forget the week he just had. He closed his eyes and basked in the feel of the warm sunlight on his face, shutting out the sounds of the cars, the conversations around him, the noises of dishes, glasses and cutlery clinking together. He just breathed and tried to cling to the vague feeling of peace that seemed to want to bloom inside his chest. It had been so long since he had felt it. He actually could not remember the last time calmness and ease had been anywhere close to his range of emotion.  
  
The moment was interrupted by someone clearing their throat close to him, the sound a bit hesitant.  
  
He opened his eyes and was surprised to see the-man-from-the-tube (as he so originally had named him in his mind) standing right in front of him. Okay, it was more than surprise. It was more of a drop-half-my-cup-of-coffee-on-my-shirt kind of startled.  
  
“Shit,” he mumbled, grabbing napkins and dabbing at his shirt, trying fervently to not look at the man. Fuck, couldn’t he just catch a bloody break, already? Once again he felt himself blushed. And the 15 year-old Arthur, who had _not_ been missed, was back with a vengeance. Fantastic.  
  
The bloke sat in the chair in front of him and smiled a little, apologetic.  
  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, and fuck if that voice did not start a fire in his stomach.  
  
“Um, hi,” Arthur said. “I…euh…I’m waiting for…”  
  
“I think we’ve been set up,” replied the man, smiling a little wider.  
  
Were those dimples? Honest to god dimples?  
  
“I’m Merlin,” he said extending his hand.  
  
Arthur shook his head slightly and stared just a second too long at those long pale fingers extended in front of him, before reaching out and shaking Merlin’s hand.  
  
“Arthur,” he said. He was confused and more than a little on edge. All feelings of inner peace gone, replaced by a strange mix of panic, excitement and arousal. A million unsuitable ideas came along with that last one, so he went with confusion instead. It was probably safer. And definitely more appropriate.    
  
“What do you mean we’ve been set up? And how do you know who I…”  
  
“You’re the bloke from the tube, right? From a few days ago? You ran out of the car when they announced your stop and then swore loudly. I could hear you even though the doors had closed and the train had started moving. Plus, you know…”  
  
Merlin indicated the whole of Arthur with a sweep of his hand and started to blush. Oh, okay, he was bloody adorable.  
  
“You’re hardly forgettable,” he mumbled, shifting his eyes, embarrassed. But Arthur still heard him.  
  
The slight panic in Arthur’s chest lessened a little. It seemed like he wasn’t the only one who was a bit flustered at the moment. It did nothing to make the blush he could feel creeping at the back of his neck go away, though.  
  
“Yes, yes, well…” he cleared his throat. “I remember you too.” Like he could have forgotten.  
  
Merlin still looked _really good_. He was wearing the same tight jeans and converse, but had a purple shirt on and a light, red scarf around his neck. He didn’t have his glasses on and Arthur was finally able to see how big and blue and beautiful and deep his eyes were. Oh there went his brain again into romantic cliché-land. Great. Perfect. Absolutely brilliant. It seemed like Arthur was always at a disadvantage when they met: disheveled and rumpled the first time, now fairly clean and fresh except for the large stain of coffee on the front of his shirt. He was now almost certain that he had somehow suffered brain damage somewhere at the beginning of the week. There had been too many weird things happening in his head, what with the blushing and gushing and just insane attraction he felt for Merlin, who really wasn’t his type. Not that Arthur had a type, really, he just never was around people like Merlin much. His whole past history was more about broad shoulders, well tailored suits, chiseled jaws and large hands. None of that skinny jeans, wiry frame and sharply defined angles. Well, they said you learned something new about yourself every day. Fuck, did he wished he had learned _that one_ a long time ago.  
  
He cleared his throat again when he realised he had been staring a bit too long.  
  
“How…euh…how did you know I was here?”  
  
Merlin played around, a bit nervously with the cutlery, straightening them on the edge of the table, moving his glass around and glancing only briefly at Arthur, biting the inside of his cheek. And wasn’t that the most endearing thing in the…stop it! Just _stop it_!  
  
“Well, see I was supposed to meet a friend here, my roommate in fact. But when I saw you…I should have known Gwen was up to something when she made me crossed half the city just for coffee. She…I mean we…we read your missed connection on craigslist.”  
  
“My what?”  
  
“Your missed connection?” Merlin said frowning. “It was online, about our meeting? Oh bugger, was this all a bloody mistake?” Merlin started to worry at his bottom lip with his teeth and wriggling his hands anxiously in front of him. Arthur had to suppressed a groan at the sight. Fuck, he wanted to kiss him. That probably wouldn’t go well though. With dignity, Arthur, with dignity.  
  
“Oh!” he exclaimed “Yeah, no, that thing? Fuck, my sister did it. I actually…we were drunk? I told her about it that night and she got the idea and well, you just don’t really argue with Morgana once she has decided to do something even if it involves you and your privacy, and even if she is pissed. Especially if she is pissed come to think of it. I actually didn’t think about it after that, I was too drunk and my day had been horrible and it was followed by more horrible days and I just didn’t think about it you know? I actually didn’t know she went through with it at all and…” good god, was he rambling?  
  
Merlin visibly sighed with relief and looked at Arthur again, stopping his twitching and fumbling a little, only keeping the knife moving as he lightly nudge it back and forth with his index finger.  
  
“Seems to me your sister and my roommate had a little chat behind our backs,” he grinned. Yup, those were dimples alright.  
  
Arthur laughed.  
  
“Yeah, um, yeah that is definitely something Morgana would do. I didn’t think anybody read those things though. Fuck, that’s embarrassing.”  
  
Arthur rubbed at the back of his neck, physically trying to keep his sudden self-consciousness from showing red all over him. Worry was back on Merlin’s face.  
  
“Look, mate, I can go if you want. It’s obvious this wasn’t planned and well, I wouldn’t want to force you to have coffee with me or anything, and I mean --"  
  
“No no no, please stay, if you don’t mind that is. You don’t have to, obviously, if you don’t want,” Arthur said quickly a sudden surge of inexplicable fear at the thought of Merlin leaving. He had to stop himself from grabbing Merlin’s hand on the table in earnestness, curling his fingers tightly on the end of the tablecloth instead. Why was he so flustered and inadequate?  
  
Merlin stayed silent observing him, trying to see if Arthur was being honest or if he was just being polite.  
  
“I would love to stay,” Merlin said after a moment, “thank you.”  
  
“Good, I mean, great.”  
  
They smiled at each other and Arthur relaxed a little.  
  
“So,” he said with a smirk, “you read those missed connections things often?”  
  
Merlin snorted and covered his mouth, but then laughed some more, as if this was the most ludicrous thing he had ever heard.  
  
“Me? Fuck no. Gwen does. That’s my roommate. She just loves them, says they fascinate her and finds them at times romantic and creepy. I think she secretly wishes one day she will see herself mentioned in one. Anyway, she reads the new ones before going to bed. The night after we saw each other on the train? She woke me up at two in the morning by banging on the wall between our rooms, screaming “Oh my God! Merlin!” so loud, I thought she was being attacked or something and ran into her room swinging the bloody broom around.”  
  
Arthur burst out laughing at that. He was glad he hadn’t been drinking anything at the time, or there would have been a great chance of him snorting it through his nose and he really didn’t need any more embarassing moments involving coffee today.  
  
“No, seriously,” Merlin continued, “I fucking charged in there. Gwen will swear to you that I screamed a sort of battle cry as I barged into her room, but it’s all slander and I wouldn’t believe anything she says if I were you. She’s obviously a master manipulator and cannot be trusted. Anyway. I had told her about our “encounter” and the missed connection was bloody precise mate. It even mentioned how big, but cute my ears were."  
  
“What?” exclaimed Arthur, all laughter gone. How. Bloody. Mortifying.  
  
Merlin just grinned, not offended in the slightest.  
  
“Yeah,” he continued, “though the whole thing makes more sense now that I know your sister was pissed when she wrote it. You were probably plastered a bit too, when you told her about it, come to think of it. There were stuff about meadows and sunsets that I really didn’t get, but you..she…it was definitely about me.”  
  
“She did not talked about the meadows and the sunsets and oh bloody hell,” he exclaimed and buried his face in his hand.  
  
Fuck, could he be more pathetic at making an impression with this guy? He was usually very good at it with his clean, pressed and tailored suits, expensive haircuts, perfect manners and charming smiles. Everything really. He had been literally _trained_ to make good first impressions. But he could just not get it right when it came to Merlin, could he?  
  
He looked up when he felt fingers brush his forearm lightly.  
  
“No need to be embarrassed,” Merlin said with a dazzling smile, all white teeth, crinkles at the corner of his eyes, cheekbones and those. fucking. dimples. “To be honest, I thought it was a bit weird and creepy at first, but I’m glad Gwen, bless her tiny romantic meddling heart, sent you…well I guess your sister, an email. And that it turns out, you’re not really a stalker or anything.”  
  
Arthur snorted.  
  
“I really regretted not asking you your number that day,” he told Merlin, not quite looking him in the eye.  
  
“Yeah, I got that when you had a fit on the platform. Those were some pretty loud expletives. I think you traumatised the old lady that was next to you. Though I must admit, I wasn’t sure why you would want it since you’re all…well you, and I’m just…me.”  
  
Arthur looked at him incredulously. Was Merlin for real? Did he not own a mirror or something? This wasn’t high school, for god’s sake! (Though his behaviour contradicted that fact a little). Nor was it a stupid teen drama where he was the rich jock and Merlin was the poor art kid and they could never, ever talk or interact because their worlds were so different, or some nonsense like that. He should really stop watching so much telly he realised. Focus, Arthur! He took a deep breath and look straight in Merlin’s eyes.  
  
“I think you’re bloody gorgeous,” he said clearly, refraining once again from grabbing Merlin’s hand, and made all kinds of efforts not to blush and look away, even if his skin prickled with the desire and every muscles in his body was telling him to do so. He somehow knew that it was very, very important that Merlin believed that. Wanted to get rid of that nonsense right there and then.  
  
“And for what it’s worth, and please never repeat this to anybody, I am also glad Morgana decided to put that missed connection online.”  
  
Merlin was blushing, but his smile was big and he definitely looked happy. At ease.  
  
“How about some food?” Merlin said, grabbing a menu. “I’m starving.”  
  
Arthur smiled in return.  
  
“Yeah, food would be great.” Yes, good. Dignity intact. Somewhat.  
  
And okay, maybe his past self hadn’t been such a wanker after all. And maybe Morgana wasn’t his punishment for the bad deeds he had committed in another life, and _maybe_ , just maybe, she was actually good karma. Though he would never, _ever_ tell her that. Ever.

**Author's Note:**

> If you see any mistakes and/or typos, or have issues with anything in my fics, please free to contact me on [tumblr](http://emjayelle.tumblr.com) (anonymous option is on) or on [livejournal](http://emjayelle.livejournal.com). Thank you.


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